Saturday, January 20, 2018

#169 Anna Couani door/waterfall

#168 Anna Couani hanging fruit, after Chris Mansell

Rob Schackne #568 - Creeping Over the Planet

Creeping Over the Planet

                      Somebody said they saw me,
                      swinging the world by the tail,

                      Bouncing over a white cloud
                      killing the blues.

          Rowland Salley (2005)

The stars are transparent
just so much they can do
five minutes too soon

No common ground
what is not discerned
so what have you done

Why can’t you pay attention

Where have you been
so what do you know
where did you know it

Why won’t you pay attention

Call it interplanetary
another zoo with fees
and admission bars

Why don’t you pay attention

Kit Kelen #749 - two poems - adrift & merry go round

two poems


a page is an idea

make my own waves
am decided to be

I am constantly making
work for myself

there's enough of everything
to begin

believing in this how-much

slave of a truth
I'm to be

so many marks
left under

I must be making them now

the self
and its steam
runs out


merry go round

Senora pilasina
Voulez-vous le taximeter?
Le zionta su la seata
Tu la tu la tu la wa
-- Chaplin

who's spinning?

it's the leaf

it's stars

must be music

there are seasons and sun

run alongside
all the wheels in the world

mustn't go under

and why not this head?

today's the day inventing

(have a go at backwards)

in a particular nextness
the clock
and slosh
(pub full of goss)

drive around around
lion and the unicorn

must be
let's face the music
and dance

let's face the music
and dance

Friday, January 19, 2018

Kit Kelen #748 - two poems -- summer night, home & to pieces again

two poems

summer night, home

in a pond just my size
eyes up starring

and the dark between
is time until now

all the things in the world
are nothing to love

love is nothing
to time

frogs tell the night
I won't say sing

in a pond just my size
struck with the echoes

eyes up enough to know
I am of all this

to pieces again

study of the machine

I'm learning
all about myself

a war of atoms
and kingdoms above

the understanding
of velocity

now I see
how it all connects

you vanish in a moment
there is no other side

Kerri Shying R # 397 - another interlude

another interlude

in bed away from   all that summer
 divorced from heat    unless

it pours beneath the skin
 flaming brown forearms are

all you see for days  the eye
 unfocused   puzzles at the clock

Tuesday to Friday all gone
 into that sneaky sickness space

where everything is aspic  stuck together
 stopped  as a corpse’s heart

everything but

Rob Schackne #567 - "Water table"

Water table

Water table

Water table


Come back 


and try it again

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Kit Kelen #747 - no better today

no better today

you can rely on the forgetting of titles, headings

imagine how it was
they were more next door
and took

that was the end of us
we were a little tribe
now gone

how do you hear from us?
you don't

we rely on your forgetting that

imagine who first had the idea prison
the idea slave

these are locked away from us

everything in its own good time

a certain kind of ant had a bomb
bigger than anyone, anything

you have to imagine how it was

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Kit Kelen #746 - hearted with the other half

hearted with the other half

summer is half way through us

I listen in a mist
as if a mountain tipped me

I'm the under it

garden's half bush again

fools of us reach to this
when bee to bud impatient flits

woods half my age
let me along

leaves blow in the shed

who sits the gutters
deals in wisps

the outside's half in

must be more than halfway now
the self I halfway am

until I am half-masted
last breath
is my sayso

half spun
and halfway down

a world's not long for us
let's jam!

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Rob Schackne #566 - "In the old graveyard" (3)

In the old graveyard
near the railway tracks
on that hallowed ground

now deemed a 'Park'
(the funding is pending)
there are no discarded tickets
beat-up suitcases or
faded snaps of disappointing places

I'll just rest here for five minutes
the guide's bullhorn
turned restlessness
into an eternity 

the sky is unbelievably blue
Oh happy day

their souls travel first-class
this might be my train

Kit Kelen #745 -


I was chosen a long time ago
I was one of the ones
parted some seas for a God

all of my cleansing was ethnic back then

all that poison in me --
and where can I get some now?


I was dressed to kill
but here today

lugged all this stuff here - just look!
you've no idea
what we lost on the way


lovely vampires
or a junkies' club

dead soon
and you too

not to be morbid

life's not to be missed


life's short and soon
we'll be nowhere at all

my own irrelevance
comes after

how's yours?


how glorious all our defeats
and still the tribe survives in me

the ravages of savages
are nothing to a war

it's out of all such weather
we come


game you cheer
and the cheerleaders fuck
and here we are again

having learned my weakness now

pass me a bottle
I'll drink myself over

you could die of the bright
in this kind of suburb


all other lives I might have lived
and they'd be over now

you'll believe this, won't you, fools?

bones of a nation to be
ash after all


now it's time to stop and play
I'm exercising a choice
I'm making up my own true heart

this is the mongrel me

Monday, January 15, 2018

Kit Kelen #744 - we of a breeze begin

we of a breeze begin

stain dwellers
tide turned

we are all the blood
for motion

we catch
awash away

and each begin
into an intensity

here because
there's breath left

and sometimes hard
to spit it out

because I'm here
a word with you

begin because
there's still to climb

and we make mountain
of it

the earth
in fast thick pants

all overgrown
this orchard I

to the last rung
cloud come in


tether me any sea so

some days
dry twig
so heaven should bless

then tendril touch
and all enfold

caught to be kissed
and on

guess again
come bright
of the vision sought

certain notes
spin up from the fire

a pollen cough
or come through smoke

then we're the dark of it
thus far

must have slept to here
the snoring!

we catch ourselves awash
and of a whim

then witness

it's work
this cramming air in

and call the forest lungs

call forth
a word because I'm with you

take mine
tell on
where I leave off

all of a breeze begin

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Kit Kelen #743 - scuttle


in a library

(work of accidents)
the picture in the page
fallen truth

all kinds of instruments in there

let a breeze

a leaf through the trees

that's opinion
I roll around on it

a garden all handles

here it's time waits
while we come

(tools and skin and poison)

and it is canvas
painted in
kooka branches

fur flown

breeze tops of a window
where cloud is only passing

the choir angelic
my radio heart

sat everywhere
for some snake puts a head up
and not a feather lost

haunt of a certain spider
we scare back into tin

a resolution sorts it all
that last flash was a year

close your eyes
see angles lit
(grey day in the book
where the sun shot through)

I followed a rabbit
wings had me up high
and tell brocaded chambers

I'm all outwitted here

only write the books I need
read a way this far

who can see after me?
who's coming along?

Her Highness Antechinus

when I command performance

off on adventures
in the biggest chair

a long long way in there

Rob Schackne #565 - "Take a look at you" (2)

Take a look at you
you have five minutes
to hook up the trailer

hoorah the open road
bring around what you can't discard
old stories old books old poems
bad light soft shoulders love

and how long will you be
the dump or the shrine
the pedigrees of stink
we’d better get going.

Saturday, January 13, 2018

Rob Schackne #564 - A Life (1)

A Life

                  after Kerri Shying

A hammer and a nail
the neighbour's cattle
loose in the top paddock
I miss you by five minutes
it's just a phone call
such small things
we project with dismay
little chance of rain
other things with fantasy
dark with clouds.

Kerri Shying R # 396 - Ten lives

Ten lives

what has been wrong with you   all week
 to have all the edges
of the small boxes of your life
  hissing like a kitten
   the side-step   
nobody  has decided yet 
what to name you
  such small things  we project with fantasy 
  they grow
 I saw you 
stumping out  with the sack  
intent on a drowning 
    don’t you keep count

Kit Kelen #742 - les mots sous les mots

les mots sous les mots

bury the eye in heavens above
bark till the tree runs up

bill the bird for beak in

stim trumps twitch every time
(there are lots)

make the bastards want to read
and burn to blur
waft off
this senseless waste of charcoal

a little obliteration goes a long long way
or possibly that is the title

et sous les mots, les mots

it's out of the good woodwork
among the shapes
as heaven arrays
everything recycled

who'll choose
and who'll be chosen

democracy kicks in
as of the one mind
now unmade

no mark without direction, depth

no safe distance from a self

but definition in the shadows
a grade from whim through
convenient materials

grey pants

and rub till the thing stands up

go too far
go further
fall off and climb back up

a senseless waste of charcoal
before the flames commit

this is not the way in

see only through a little slit
registration of another
no, season

the city whole

it overbalances
where we tip out

every house is of its gods
it has to be light lets in

the aphorist will wink
we see

tap of the day
machine takes all in

work is the thing in progress
exhaust fumes come from here

go right through the paper
to the other place

all fucked up
could be a way of life

go too far
go further
fall off and climb back up

the art lecture
is all words too many

every house is of its gods

the wrapped thing
the underthing
the unknown
the buried

why does a thing deserve to be painted?

is there an eloquence in likeness?

each mark demands its own belief
one needs constantly to sharpen

if so returns diminish by law
pencil so

and then a city stands
an empire timbers out of frame

et sous les images, les mots
et sous les mots, images

there was a language there

let that begin my doubt

things inaccessible themselves

world other of the any mark

paint parties out

how dark the bright world corners them
you'll have this view of night

for things can't be reached
shall we draw a stepladder?

like diners
we gather to listen

sometimes look
and there's nothing there
you'll kindly picture that

there are no calories in this
a body cannot consist of pictures

faster than the work they come to

so live in the time beyond
it's an art to make
this standing
from the moment

rude presence
never lets us by

where hours and years have come to sit

though none look up

you smell the rain before it comes
and rally to the battlements
as with the other ants

every house is of its gods
it has to be light lets us in

nothing to see here

wherever you are
come out

Friday, January 12, 2018

Kit Kelen #741 - balancing act

balancing act

a first touch
is like lightning grounded
tells how I conduct

tribe of who's in the picture
see them all wave
it's with me in mind

braver at a certain place
and tenderly
the carrying is all across

we stand
as if a dance might take

the work to begin
is a body

and trip fantastically till lit

call the weather to me
tell a grief again

then come to first truth of the work
its thingness now time piled
to sing

it's pointed
so we're bound to hear

a population of the remembered

so many truths by whom we are chosen

when you say soul then something misses
keep the heart in mind

as if we were leafed through

read me

all in the picture
found themselves there

it's not as if there were a scheme
but history admits us
to the world we're wielding now

Thursday, January 11, 2018

Kit Kelen #740 - will come crashing

will come crashing

it is a kind of fervour brought me

you'd like to stand back from
see into still

so many ways the word is gone
so many kinds of mark
and smudge
and rub

this many in
you look right through

so as to stand in the work
say self of it

some of them are nothing to me

from time to time record
this is an end of the thing
or here the word begins

it was paper before ink night

and should the eye fall into error

the noise and I attend

shape stains from out of ilk

we go wherever breath went

then should the edge fall from the world

make crossing out an art too

feel hat on head
when it's gone

Rob Schackne #563 - "When locals ask"

When locals ask
what are you doing here
I say I don't know
more roos
than you can
shake a stick at

don't forget
you have to be a larrikin
maybe I'm retired
looks like rain

looks like 
you write a bit
no worries

Rob Schackne #562 - The Bridge On The Way Out Of Seymour

The Bridge On The Way Out Of Seymour

A pram in the water
an old bookcase
a door with one hinge
hard to say

all abandoned
the children grew up
left town years ago
she took her last breath
in the library rest in peace
he shut the door behind him

the bridge on the way out of Seymour
and I just got here

#167 Anna Couani artist book - demolition

#166 Anna Couani artist book - close up

#165 Anna Couani Jazz at the gallery

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Kit Kelen #739 - the line for a walk

the line for a walk

went on
was listed missing

a brush with colour
might still be on the level

something lost along the way
rattles on

a dawdle, doddle
whisper thread
of conversation
or argument
set out

like a lipstick riddle rim
come smudge, leave trace

then ink to swim
or roll a ball along

sometimes at a jog
trot, gallop, gavotte
trace waltz
until elliptic

stitched wound
strike the strings

go barefoot
tow the line

of waves, in brine
(the line in straitened circs)

and where the mind went – notice

how it never came home again

thin blue
'from where to where?'

something along these lines

and off the rails
one parallel won't meet